


Cheap Trick

by BurningGalaxies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Action, Gen, My First Work in This Fandom, Please Don't Kill Me, Threats of Violence, Tickling, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningGalaxies/pseuds/BurningGalaxies
Summary: Klaus hates wrestling with his siblings, but now he's found a way to make things a little more interesting...





	Cheap Trick

**Author's Note:**

> First: this is a tickle fic. If you don't like that sort of stuff or familial tickling, this probably isn't the story for you. Second: I know this isn't top notch but it's my first fic so cut me some slack if you please. Third: this is a sort of prelude to my original idea, so stay tuned if you like it!

It's another peachy Monday morning when Klaus is startled awake by an incessant pounding on his bedroom door, only to groan and fall back into his sheets again. "Number Four!" He mouths along with dad's usual greeting. "Wake up! Training has nearly begun and I expect you on _time_!"

Quick, curt footsteps retreat from his door before he even gets out a begrudging "yes, father," but ah well. Bigger fish to fry, he supposes.

Which only reminds him of the very cruel realization that today is indeed a Monday — the worst day of the week by far, and not just because the fat orange cat in the funny papers says so.

Klaus sighs, swings his feet over the edge of his bed, and mentally prepares himself for the weekly Cirque de Ass Whooping.

 

* * *

 

"Number one, number four, you remember the rules?"

Luther grunts from where he's nearly crouching on the gym mats below them, arms held up like some cheesy video game character, which would make Klaus laugh if he didn't know damn well he was about to get his ass handed to him. So instead, he swallows thickly and nods his understanding to his father. No murder, no maiming, no powers, and (as of last week) no biting.

(That last one doesn't really seem fair considering that Klaus doesn't have super strength or _magical teleporting_ to save himself with at the last minute. Seriously, Five. Get over it.)

"Then your training shall commence at the whistle. Prepare yourselves - "

Luther grins and cracks his neck. Klaus assumes a defensive stance and whispers  _f_ _uck_  to himself.

"- And begin!"

Vanya's whistle shrieks its familiar war cry and then _WHAM_ — all 150 pounds of Luther instantly collides with Klaus' wiry frame, effectively toppling both young boys to the ground. The big lug isn't even using half of his natural strength and yet Klaus is already winded, scrambling for the upper hand in a war zone of flailing limbs. He's pretty sure Luther shouldn't have six of them, but then again, he might just be hitting himself on accident.

Then there's a hand in his hair that is so very Not Klaus' Hand and he winces before those ruthless fingers even tighten, screeches his disapproval, and holds on to Luther for dear life.

Apparently, this is effective.

Number one jolts with a surprised and disgruntled noise when Klaus squeezes at his sides, which is a moment that the smaller of the two uses to his advantage by squeezing again. And again, because he doesn't realize what it's doing but only that it's keeping his hair in his skull where it belongs _thank you very much_  - but _hey_ , isn't that an interesting reaction? Is that -? Holy shit, it totally is!

Klaus laughs triumphantly as he pushes Luther off him and on his back, wriggling fingers drawing irritated huffs and bouts of chuckling from the wrestling champ beneath him. Beneath him! It's only three or four seconds tops, but it's just enough time to save his sorry skin and push all of his weight down onto the big blondie's wrists for a good and proper pin.

The whistle blows, dad says something or other, and both Klaus and Luther look at each other with bewildered expressions, panting.

It's an odd twenty seconds, for sure.

It passes in an instant, though, when Luther heaves Klaus off him (" _uumph - Luther_!") and rolls his shoulders. "Jesus, Klaus, what are you? Six months old?" He dusts himself off and glowers before leaving the room, as the loser is supposed to do. Klaus is usually the one leaving the room, so this event is weird for two reasons now. However... This very strange gain in fortune could very much work out in his favor.

Klaus lets out a soft noise of disbelief as he - shakily, unsteadily - stumbles to his feet, smiling. Not even the skeptical eye raise from Dad can drown his spirits now, because Klaus has a new winning strategy that will finally keep him out of the losers' circle for the day.

 

* * *

 

Diego is an equally challenging opponent in that he's just as desperate for daddy's approval as Luther and actually knows how to _wrestle_  wrestle. Knives aside, there's probably enough anger brewing in that guy to power a couple steam engines, so Klaus can't say he's surprised.

He IS surprised when he fends off Diego's fists long enough to get a jab at his underarms, resulting in a high pitched squeal that is entirely inconsistent with his Mr. Macho attitude. The look on his face as he tumbles backwards prompts a wicked grin from Klaus, who follows eagerly. His fingertips continue to flutter where they're trapped by Diego's locked down arms.

"C'mon, number two!" He teases, "Aren't you gonna get me? Pound me to a pulp? Burn me alive and scatter the ashes?"

Diego's fists clench dangerously tight around Klaus' forearms, a humorous mix of snarly anger and restrained mirth splaying across his face. What's funnier is the blush heating up his face as he splutters, "Get! Off - hng! Me!"

But Klaus doesn't stop until he hears the whistle, and crosses his arms over his face the moment he lets go... But retaliation doesn't come. Instead, he gets pushed aside as a fuming Diego climbs to his feet. "He-!" He starts towards dad, pointing back at Klaus. " H-he cheated! That isn't fair!"

Father fixes him with a look that must convey something Klaus doesn't understand, because he deflates a little bit before turning on his feet and stomping away.

Uh oh. "Uh... Sorry?"

The door slams on Diego's way out.

 

* * *

 

That last win earns Klaus a brief water break, but it's the fact that he's fighting Allison next that excites him. They share a small smile when she enters the room, though they both have to sober up a little when their father isn't busy writing things down. Neither of them ever plan on putting up a huge fight, but they get enough standard moves in before one or the other loses. It's actually not too bad, all things considered.

Damn him to hell if he doesn't put on a show when the whistle blows, though. Allison never makes the first move, so as they're circling each other oh so menacingly, he waits until his back is turned to cross his eyes at her and distort his mouth into various odd expressions. It gets him a chuckle and a shake of her head, and he counts that as a win in his book.

They have to move things along though, so Klaus takes a lunge, faking a left and swinging for his sister's right shoulder. She deflects easily and uses the momentum to slide back across the mat a few paces, tsking. Klaus huffs and tries again, stumbling slightly when she raises her leg for a roundhouse kick and 'misses.' In the same beat, she steps forward with her other leg and catches Klaus off guard by knocking his feet out from under him.

"Gah!" Klaus twists, managing to get on all fours before Allison gets another kick in. He latches onto her leg immediately, tugging once, _hard_. She collapses next to him with a similar shocked noise, only to fall back in laughter when Klaus makes a grab for her foot and starts scratching along the heel.

(God, even when she laughs, it's all light and perfect and effortless. Klaus has half a mind to be offended.)

However brief the moment might have been, it still counted as a pin due to the fact that Klaus had thrown himself over Allison's legs to keep her from re-breaking his jaw. Not that she would because she's a big softie like that, but still. Reflexes.

She's still chuckling after the whistle blows, and amusement lingers in her eyes when Klaus helps her to her feet. "Nice one, goofball." She murmurs in passing, nudging his shoulder on her way out.

Klaus hopes to one day be as good a sport as she is.

 

* * *

 

He takes that hope back the moment that Five strolls in, not even two minutes later. All that cocky swagger is pretty bold for someone with the face of a four year old.

Is it surprising that Klaus only ever wrestled with Five once? Not very. He doesn't even totally remember what happened, but he's pretty sure it doesn't matter anyway because he has a little trick up his sleeve.

Five stops a few paces away from Klaus, arms behind his back in a laissez faire sort of 'fuck you' attitude, all smiley and proud like he's already won. It's cute, actually, sparking a bit of competitive impulse in Klaus that he didn't know existed until just now.

And like a fool, he charges in the moment that the whistle sounds.

Five doesn't move until the last second, batting Klaus' fist away and grabbing his arms to knee him right in the stomach.

Klaus doubles over with a pained groan, which only gives Five better access to his back, promptly jumping him. The taller of the two shouts wordlessly and staggeres, hands pulling at the arms wrapped around his neck. " Nice move, Klaus," he hears muttered in his ear, only the slightest bit strained. "Well, nice for me. Not so much for you."

"Oh you _prick_  - aaah!" His hands grapple with Five's as he moves about in circles, trying to keep balance. Note: this is difficult to do when another person wraps their legs around your waist and flings all their weight backwards like an _asshole_.

Considering Klaus weighs less than the average poodle, they both collide with the floor pretty quickly.

"At least make this a challenge for me, Klaus. I was expecting a little more from the new - reigning - champion!" His assailant taunts, constricting his legs tighter in an effort to twist around and get Klaus under him.

"Wha-? No! NO! No no no no no - _no._ " Klaus flaps his hands at the legs digging into his abdomen and trying to flip him over.

But then he remembers his trick.

He grunts, shifting his arms to wrap fully around one of the offending limbs caging him in. "You want a challenge, huh? Challenge this!"

Without hesitation, he (gently) cups his hands around Five's exposed knee, squeezing rapidly. The response he gets is immediate: a confused noise quickly drowned out by a wave of bubbly giggles.

"Aha!" Klaus cheers, freeing himself when the grip around him immediately loosens. He doesn't stop there though, using one hand to spider lightly under Five's knee, releasing a whole new bout of hysterics as the smaller of the two curls further into himself.

"Is this the challenge you were looking for? Huh?" Klaus chuckles, forgetting entirely about the other people in the room monitoring his movements.

Five kickes out, gasping out chopped syllables as he attempts to curl completely and grab Klaus' hands. Klaus merely dodges these, his triumphant laughter perhaps softened a little by the adorableness of Five's snorting laughter (which he only does when his death spot is attacked, how endearing).

"K-klaus!"

"Oh, here? Is this bad? Sorry about that, bro, I know how sensitive you are about these things."

"N-n-n!!" Five shakes his head, clutching at his stomach. His face is beet red, his eyes watering and yet someone conveying a desperate warning - wait a minute -

One of Five's legs kick out hard, near violent, and that's the last thing Klaus sees before the room fades to black.

 

* * *

 

"...ow." Klaus whines softly as he holds an ice pack to his face, sitting in his usual spot on the losers bench outside the wrestling room.

A hand squeezes his shoulder gently, and Klaus offers up a small smile in response. Ben's smiling too, but he does wince out of sympathy when Klaus lets the bag go to reveal a bruising eye.

"Is it bad? Tell me it's not bad."

"Uhm," Ben bites his lip. "Remember the first time you tried masacara?"

"Yeah...?"

"It's kinda like that."

Klaus groans and hangs his head with a sigh, ignoring the looks he knows he's getting from Luther and Diego across the way. Little jealous bitches.

"You got pretty far today, though. Nicely done." Ben congratulates, completely oblivious to how Klaus even did so. If he knew, Klaus would never hear the end of it.

"Yeah, well. Thanks. I guess."

"No problem!" He gets up when his number is called, nudging Klaus' shoulder. "See you at lunch."

"Hmmn."

He watches Ben go and groans again when the door closes, focus shifting to how tired and sore he feels from four rounds of wrestling in a row. It's sad, it really is, but one of these days he swears he's gonna get buff and all that great stuff. Just not today.

When five returns from his round with Ben, though, Klaus notices the way he looks at him. That mischievous glint in his eye that only brightens after sharing a whispered conversation with Diego...

Klaus gulps.

Maybe he should look into a gym membership sooner than later.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at umbrella-babies.tumblr.com (I don't bite, I promise).


End file.
